Fear

I had a nightmare and found myself sweating the other night. I don't remember the details, but do remember the feeling of fear. I examined what I really fear for. Here are the lists of that I am scared of or worried about: being mugged or attacked, being shouted by people for no reason, walking under some construction, getting on an airplane, a boat and NY taxi, facing close people’s death, being rejected, dealing with the close people getting grumpy or angry, a needle, a mouse, a barking dog, an unpredictable cat's action, judgmental eyes from strangers, sudden noises at night, disappointing people, lightning, earthquake on and on.... I have been timid, since I was little. I know why I am like this. When I was little, a shocking incident froze the whole country in Japan. A crazy guy killed 7 or 8 people including a little baby by a knife on the street in the middle of the day without reason. I was terrified with it and walking on the streets. This incident convinced me that the world was cruel. I concluded that even if I had behaved well, or tried not to be hated by people, I would still have had a chance to be killed. I asked my mother, "If I happened to be involved with a similar situation, what should I do? "If you were with me, you just ran and ran," she told. " Nooooo, you are the one who has to run and run, as I don't want to be left all alone," I cried. I was scared of not only this kind of incidents, but also the fact that I would have ended up being an orphan, if my mother had been involved with those incidents. I would rather die than being left alone, as I would not be able to deal with losing her. I still remember the face of the killer who affected my life up until now. One day, in my mother's absent night, I was holding a knife at the door all night when I heard some noises outside of our house. Nothing happened. It might have been a cat's act. Now the world is more dangerous than those days. I am still alive, yet I am the same. I get scared of just walking on the streets. Sometimes, I truly wish I were in a total safe place, which would not exist in the world. I look up the sky, wondering if there is utopia up there. My friend said the other day, "the world is full of happiness." I replied to her in my mind, "with sadness as well." I can't ignore that.

a date

It has been wet and gray, raining on and off in the city. If not going out, I like it, giving a great sense of tranquility. This weekend, I had a date with myself. First I took myself to the MOMA to study art history especially in 40's to now all over again. I took a long time to view each painting. After one round, I started back again. Though I am working in art biz, I was ignorant, having a smattering of art history in the University where I had been. "Without knowing the background of general or art history, one cannot appreciate art, “ often be said. Before I was not really for the notion, as art should speak itself. In other words, art should be strong and aesthetic enough to convey universal understanding. Yet, I was totally wrong and too idealistic. Without knowledge of any art or historical movement behind, one will never get the point of "ready made," by Duchamp. It is not about whether one will like it or not. It is about the history. So, this time in the MOMA, I for the first time felt as if I understood overall art history, then even enjoyed some paintings that I never was captivated before. With my light steps, I left the museum, feeling that I took one step closer to some enlightenment. Then, for this reward, I fed myself a hotdog with a coffee in Central Park under the cloudy sky. For the rest, I cooked and read a lot. Today, more quiet. I joined some Qui going class this morning, came home, and stayed home, studying again art history. I felt a bit lonely, but tonight some visitors unexpectedly visit me. Ladybugs.... five of them. (If they are 5 of cockroaches, I will die in a heart attack.) They look like one family, as the sizes are variable. The biggest one, which I think the dad, is moving here and there, while the rests are staying together. They put my face smile. Rains calmed my mind and the ladybugs brought warmth. My date was very romantic in the end.

What makes an piece of art

so special? To answer the question is, I guess, as hard as to find out how a human being was born in the first place. The other day, with a friend of mine, an art collector, I went to two museums; the National Philadelphia Museum and the Brandywine River Museum in Philly. Among so many master pieces that we saw, there was one painting that etched into my mind and still remained clearly in the back of my head. It was "Snow Hill," by Andrew Wyeth. It depicts several of Andrew Wyeth's models (including Bill Loper, Helga Testorf, Adam Johnson, Karl Kuerner and Ann Kuerner) dancing around a May Pole in white field and sky for the background. It was breathtaking for me. Right, his technique was great, but there were so many artists whose technique was killer. Surely, art is all about one's taste, period.... Really? Is that ever all? This feeling of, " Wow, I love the piece," is actually similar to that feeling of, "Wow, I crashed on HIM." Why the him and the piece? What clicks you and why are you so sure about it? In that sense, art is a living creature, even though it doesn’t hold or kiss you. Coincidentally, an established artist whom I met recently told me about his dream last night at dinner, " It is hard to make an art that can move people, so my dream is to create something that can move just myself." I listened, thinking about Weyth's painting in my mind. "I think that art or a painting is not only about the surface. I believe that art is about something deeper in some energy levels, " he continued. " which is ironically invisible," I added. I do agree on him. Still, my question is not clearly answered in words. Perhaps, it is better to leave like that. In life, there is always something that is impossible or unnecessary to explain. However, we know always that "something," deep down.

summer vacation

It is not so easy to do nothing especially in the city, right? Everybody is going away for summer, as the city is not the place to have a break. Then, only some tourists who have a great ambition to do something in the city are really busy. Like everybody, since August, I am really having a summer vacation, getting a tan, reading books, and feeling relaxed. One thing that differs from everybody's vacation is that I am not in South France, Caribbean Islands or no else. I am right here in the middle of the busiest city. I actually found 2 great getaways in a walking distance from my new nest: the garden in a church and Hudson River Park. I knew about the garden in the church, as I always passed through on the way to the gallery. Like Gramercy Park, I didn't expect it to be open to the public. Surprisingly, it WAS open from Monday to Saturday. Since I figured, I have been there every 2 days or so. What is great about it is that there is almost nobody. Surrounded by the historical architectures, the big trees are swinging softly. It is so tranquil that you will completely forget that you are in the city. Then, here is Hudson River Park. I have been in NY for 4 years, yet I was not aware of the development of the area. I was the east side people and I hardly came all the way to the west before. I was stunned by the fact that how the park became organized and clean. People are running, walking, skateboarding, riding a bike, or lying on the grass with bikini along the river. It is like California! So, those two places are my spots, plus my new nest. It is strange to say that I feel very new in NY all over again. As I said in the last article, I am still not getting used to the west side. Every time I walk around the neighborhood, I find something new. Also, I was really working hard this year. Therefore I forgot how to stop or how to do nothing. (It is like a-bird-who-forgets-how-to-sing-situation.) When I don't do any productive things, I feel a bit guilt and uneasy. The commotion of the city intensifies my feeling that way. Yet, people need to have a break once in a while. Life is not only about working. Walking slowly gives us a space to find a tiny flower on the corner of the concrete street, recognize the beautiful sky in the sunset and the smell of the air. Feeling a bit out of balance, I have been forcing myself not to doing anything. Well, I've started remebering how to sing a little by little.

I assume

that every single person, more or less, has some peculiar and inexplicable habits that can't be got away with. In my case, when it comes to walking with somebody, I do need to walk by the right side of him or her. Otherwise, I feel uneasy. Likewise, I feel insecure, whenever I go to the West Side of the city. My living situation in Manhattan had been always in the East Side, whether it was uptown or downtown. As a consequent, areas where I hung out were also in the East Side. Here I am now though, last week, I moved in the West Side. Well, I sort of needed to move for some reasons, which is too complicated to explain here. This apartment was love at first sight. What is great about it is the view from the windows. The windows are facing the interior garden and gigantic trees stand over the building. The trees are so tall that I can almost touch the trees from the windows. In my former apartment, on the other hands, I had no views what-so-ever. I was on the ground floor and all I could see was gigantic ventilation machines in the buildings, which polluted airs were blowing off continuously. So, I am quite happy now, seeing the trees with the birds singing. However, this is about the apartment, not about the east-west side fetish. I, in fact, extremely feel off-balanced in the neighborhood, as I mentioned. I am missing the former neighborhood, which was Gramercy. I lived there for 3 years, and my life in NY really started from there. I loved Gramercy Park, which I never was inside. I loved the street, Irving Place. As much as I hated Third Avenue and the Third avenue-people, I felt safe there. I was pretty much grounded in the East Side. It isn’t easy to leave something that you are so accustomed to. Yes, I am the one who wanted to move. Now, I see this as a practice. Like the principles of Yin and Yang, anything can’t be only in one-side, which is the unviersal law of nature. The energy has to flow. Therefore this could be the lesson to balance myself out. Like this: once in a while, you force yourself to switch a shoulder for having your bag. (Well, for my walking fetish, I can’t compromise though!)